


Fan the Flames (As Your Blazes Burn)

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood Drinking, Demon Blood Addiction, F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5827270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were warned that the apocalypse would destroy the world. They just didn’t think it would be quite like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fan the Flames (As Your Blazes Burn)

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of [SPN Reverse Bang](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com). My artist was [dhfreak](http://dhfreak.livejournal.com) and the link for their art masterpost is [here](http://dhfreak.livejournal.com/267078.html).  
> This ‘Verse assumes Ruby got to keep her blonde meatsuit. Huge thank you to crazy-cas-lady for the beta. <3

             

 

Dean slumps back against the tank of the water tower, rubbing his shoulder absently, and shooting Ruby a dirty look when she fails to cover a laugh. 

 

“Hey, we can’t all be hell-powered freaks,” he mumbles defensively, lifting his binoculars up to take a sweep of the village blocks below. 

 

“Some might say you’re getting soft, Winchester,” Ruby shoots back, but there’s no malice in the words. It’s the same ribbing as always, making Sam shake his head as he lifts his gun back up to his shoulder. The muted report sounds next to him as he takes down another zombie. 

 

“I think that’s about it,” Dean declares after a while. There’d only been a hundred or so in this little podunk, but Sam had lost count of how many they’d taken out. None come shambling toward the tower, and eventually the three of them scale back down the rickety ladder, Dean jumping the last few feet to cover Sam and Ruby until they’re on solid ground. 

 

Sticking close together, they edge through the narrow streets, checking buildings as they go, and picking up supplies they’ll need for later. Ruby stashes most of it in the bag slung over her back; her demon strength allowing her to carry much more for longer without wearing out. 

 

When they reach the opposite edge of town, the trio finally relax; only a few zombies had been lurking, easily taken care of as they moved. Dean glances at Sam, who merely shrugs in response; Ruby rolls her eyes in annoyance. 

 

“Stop with the Winchester mind meld. What is it?” 

 

“This is as good a place as any to stop for the night. There was place along the northeast edge that’ll work.” 

 

To Sam’s surprise, Ruby’s usual grumbling isn’t forthcoming. Maybe it’s the dark shadows under his eyes or the trouble Dean had getting going this morning, back and knees stiff from sleeping on the ground. Either way, he’s glad for it, and they head back toward the house Dean had made note of.

 

Sure enough, it’s easy to barricade the doors and windows, and there’s apparently enough gas in the propane tank that Dean can heat up food. It’s not much more than beans and tinned beef, but both are much better hot than eaten straight from the can. Ruby wrinkles her nose at it anyway, playing with her knife while the brothers eat as fast as they can without burning their mouths. 

 

The rooms upstairs are clean, closets still mostly full of clothing. Most of the men’s clothing will fit Dean, and a few of the bigger shirts stretch enough for Sam. Ruby, of course, scores a closet full of clean clothes that are just a bit bigger than her slender frame. There’s no hot water in the tank, so Dean takes the time to boil water on the stove, allowing each of them a thorough spongebath. 

 

“Might as well be the Ritz,” the elder Winchester grins wryly, buffing his hair dry; it’s the cleanest they’ve been in weeks, and Sam’s looking forward to a good night’s sleep. 

 

Ruby keeps watch, as always; there are advantages to having a demonic member of their team. First though, she and Dean head to one of the bedrooms, and Dean tries to ignore the flash of jealousy on Sam’s face. He gets a taste of Ruby’s blood a lot less often than Dean - according to Ruby, Azazel’s blood provides stronger and more lasting protection than her own. It’s hard to remember to feel bad, though, when his face is flushed and he feels like he’s flying high when they emerge. Ruby shoots Sam a smirk before heading toward the living room. Together, the brothers trudge upstairs, collapsing together in the master bed since it’s the only one in the house long enough for them both. 

 

Surprisingly, sleep is hard coming for Dean. He can’t quite get the images of the dead out of his mind, the echos of their growling loud in the silence of the house. Sam snores softly, peaceful and still too young-looking for all they’ve been through. Rolling onto his back, Dean throws a hand over his eyes and lets his mind wander. 

 

* * *

 

 

The first call came from Leroy Welks, an old, grizzled hunter from the Mississippi backwater. A pack of monsters had appeared in a small town outside of Biloxi, decimating it overnight. They fed on flesh like ghouls, but beheading only left snarling heads and rotted corpses behind. 

 

“Spreads like the damn plague,” the old man swore, and the edge of panic in his voice was more than enough to have the Winchesters on the road. 

 

There was nothing left of Leroy but bloody bones and decaying meat - and a head that snapped and grunted until Dean shot it in the forehead. Nothing remained of the townsfolk, either, but rambling corpses and the decimated remains of their victims. The creatures behaved like vicious animals, following sounds and the scent of blood, herding together in packs. 

 

“Zombies,” Dean breathed, looking down from their vantage point on top of the convenience store. “Jesus, Sammy.” 

 

They picked them off carefully, not getting within biting distance, but the sound of gunfire drew more and more until Sam was sure they’d run out of bullets before all of the monsters were put down. Not a single living human was left of the population by the end of the week, but this little town would barely be a blip on the radar. Soon enough, calls were coming in from all over the country, stories of people being ripped to shreds by friends and neighbors, of people dying screaming and coming back as flesh-hungry monsters. 

 

Bobby never made it out of Sioux Falls. Dean and Sam had taken turns calling him on their race back from Mississippi, but the old man stopped answering four hours out. Sam had sent Dean back out to the car when they found him chewing on what was left of the local sheriff. Dean had gritted his teeth when Sam got back in the car, and Sam ignored the evidence of tear tracks on his brother’s face. 

 

“What the hell is going on,” Dean muttered quietly. He’d set course for the Roadhouse, unsure if there would be anything left to find, but they both agreed that they had to try. 

 

Pulling up to the building, there were a few cars and trucks scattered about; the neon OPEN sign still flickered in the window. Sam and Dean edged up to the door, weapons drawn. 

 

“Ellen? Jo? Ash? It’s Sam and Dean. Anybody in there?” Dean shouted through the doorway, but no answer was forthcoming. 

 

Carefully, they edged the door open further, and the rank smell of decay hit their noses. Dean scrabbled for the light switch he knew was  by the door, relieved when the lights came up. One last snarling zombie - a hunter, by the look of him, but Dean didn’t know his name - was being dispatched by a knife to the temple, crumpling to the ground with a sick thud. 

 

“Took you boys long enough,” a familiar voice said smoothly. Ruby turned, revealing her blood-splattered face and shirt. “I figured you’d get here eventually, but I didn’t think you’d take this long.” 

 

“Ruby,” Sam bit out. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

 

She quirked a smile and gestured at the bodies around her with the blade in her hand. “Cleaning up the mess. Waiting for you. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and you haven’t been answering my calls.” Ruby stepped over the bodies, approaching the brothers despite the guns still pointed at her. “Oh come  _ on _ , Sam. You can’t tell me you don’t want to know what’s going on here.” 

 

“You know?” Dean demanded. 

 

“Sure. You remember River Grove, don’t you?” 

 

“Croatoan? These are Croats?” Sam nudged the hand of a nearby body with his boot for emphasis. 

 

“New and improved. Unfortunately, a little more improved than the idiots who released it had anticipated. It spread too fast, got out of control; and, obviously, the creatures aren’t as smart as the previous versions.” 

 

“Zombies.” 

 

“Essentially.”

 

Dean made a disgruntled sound in his throat. “Yeah, and I’m sure you’re just here, ready and willing to help us out.” 

 

“You need me,” Ruby shrugged, sheathing her knife. “Cause Sammy here? He’s immune. You know that. But you, Dean-o? Not so much.” 

 

“You don’t know that I’m immune if the virus is different,” Sam counters. 

 

“Demon blood keeps you safe. Just like Azazel intended. But if you’d rather risk big brother turning, that’s fine with me. I can go.”

 

But they couldn’t let her leave, couldn’t risk that she was telling the truth. Dean couldn’t risk leaving Sam behind in a world going completely to hell. 

 

* * *

 

So far, she’s fought side by side with them, offering up her own blood to protect Dean. The thought makes him a little queasy, the flare of shame when he thinks too long and hard about what he’s done just to stay safe. Nevermind how he finds himself craving the coppery taste of blood and the feeling of power that comes with it. 

 

_ Just until this is over,  _ he thinks, then snorts to himself.  _ If it’s ever over.  _ Rolling over, he tries to shove his thoughts from his mind.

 

Too soon, Ruby is luring them out of bed with coffee, black and bitter from being boiled on the stove, but neither man complains. They spend the morning swapping out the filthy clothing in their packs for a couple of changes of fresh clothes. More food gets taken from the pantry, and Dean spends a little while searching through the house checking for more ammo or guns, although his efforts come up empty. 

 

Carefully, they unblock the front door, taking a brief sweep of the immediate area before setting out. The day is sunny, but there’s a chill of fall starting to creep up as the leaves begin to turn. Dean’s had them on a southeast track for the past couple of weeks, hoping to get far enough south that winter won’t be a problem, far enough east to hit the river. Deep down, he’s hoping they can find a boat to get them into the Gulf, away from zombie-infested land. 

 

They’d had to leave the Impala behind a month ago, unable to get gas for her after heading north, trying to track down other hunters; it’d nearly broken Dean’s heart to just leave her alongside the road and he swore up and down he’d get her back someday. 

 

“How far d’you think, Sam?” Dean asks quietly as they make their way out onto the dusty county road. 

 

Sam squints, staring down the road as if he can see just how far they need to walk to hit the Mississippi. “Couple weeks. Maybe three. Guess it depends on how much trouble we hit along the way.” 

 

Ruby barks out a sharp laugh and yeah. Trouble is kind of their middle name. 

 

“Three weeks it is then.” Dean tries not to sound as weary as he feels. Losing Bobby so soon after losing Dad had been hard; not knowing about the Harvelles and Ash only made it worse. 

 

Silence reigns for a few hours as they walk, until Sam gets bored. He starts rambling about serial killers - Green River, BTK, Bundy - voice low enough that Dean strains a little to hear, although he’s not sure why he’s listening. 

 

“Morbid hobby you’ve got there, Sambo,” Ruby mutters after a while, causing Sam to peter off into silence. 

 

Dean picks up where he left off, talking about old horror flicks and Star Wars until his throat goes raw. Ruby finally catches a hint and takes her turn, dragging up what few memories she has of being human. It passes the time, even though the ache of the reminder of how the world is in shambles grows in the pit of Dean’s stomach. 

 

* * *

  
  


Fifteen hours of walking and about 40 miles later - give or take, since they don’t spend all of that time on a road - Dean has to admit they’re going to be sleeping outside for the night. They bunk down just within the borders of the forest alongside the road, out of sight just in case anyone happens down it. 

 

Sam curls up at the base of a tree, gun propped up against him with his machete nearby and hood tugged over his head. Dean takes the other side, waiting until his brother is snoring softly before allowing Ruby to tug him off a little ways; Sam is still in sight, but just far enough that most of their quiet grunts and panting won’t wake him. 

 

Dean unbuckles his belt without hesitation, cock already thick in his jeans as Ruby shoves her own pants down. They dangle around one ankle as he hoists her up, pinning her tightly against a tree trunk and thrusting in. She’s hot and wet, deliciously tight. Sharp nails rake down his back as he fucks her roughly, face buried against her neck in an attempt to muffle his sounds. Ruby growls a little through gritted teeth, bucking her hips to meet his thrusts even if it grinds her skin against the bark. 

 

Ruby gets tighter the closer she gets to coming, and Dean nuzzles his way into the top of her shirt, waiting until the last second to sink his teeth into her breast. Warm blood spills into his mouth as Ruby bites back a scream, pussy fluttering around Dean’s cock, and that’s enough to have him coming in her, sucking hard at the wound made by his teeth. 

 

The demon drops down onto her own two feet as soon as Dean lets go, tugging her panties and jeans back into place and straightening the collar of her shirt to cover the new bite mark. She’ll bandage it while they sleep, if only to keep blood from soaking into her shirt. Dean zips up, wiping his mouth clean and stumbling back towards his brother. He slumps down next to Sam, scooting closer to share his brother’s warmth as the night cools further. The last thing he hears is the rasp of a whetstone against metal, Ruby sharpening one of their many blades as she keeps watch. 

 

A shout jerks him out of sleep, hand already going for his gun as he looks around wildly for the source. Sam’s just barely holding off a zombie, one hand gripping its slimy throat as the other scrabbles for his weapon. Dean takes it in a clean shot, but there’s only a brief respite before the gravity of their situation reveals itself.

 

Ruby is nowhere in sight, her belongings gone and the brothers are surrounded by a growing hoard of zombies; no problem if there were three of them. Two. . . they might not be so lucky. They fire on as many as they can, until their clips click empty. Dean manages to reload, but Sam snatches up their machetes. Heads roll sickly, still snapping until they’re crushed by booted feet. 

 

Their bodies are soon aching, arms sore with the jarring force of cutting through bone. Thankfully, the number of zombies is dwindling as they cut them down. 

 

Chopping the head off another body, Dean whirls around, panting. The clearing is finally empty save for him and Sam. “Sammy?” he grunts quietly.

 

“I’m fine, Dean,” the other man stage whispers, stepping closer to his brother.

 

“We’ve gotta get the hell out of here. If there’s this many, there’s probably more. Find someplace with shelter, something we can barricade. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

 

“Yeah, Sammy. Let’s go,” Dean nods, carefully leading his brother into the thicket of trees. Sam sticks close, both of them moving cautiously to make as little noise as possible. The silence is eerie, without even small animals making any noise.

 

“Where the fuck is Ruby?” Sam murmurs after a while, voicing the thing they’re both wondering, but Dean never gets a chance to answer. 

A sudden rustle from the right has them both whipping around, machetes at the ready, only to find themselves staring down the barrel of a shotgun. More rustles from behind them alert them to the presence of more people. “Are you infected?” the man in front of them demands.

 

“What?” Sam asks in surprise.

 

“I said, are you  _ infected _ ?” the man demands more harshly.

 

“No,” Dean growls back. “No, we’re clean.”

 

Lowering his shotgun slightly, the man steps forward, sweeping eyes up and down both Winchesters. “Where are you headed?”

 

Exchanging a glance with his brother, Dean answers. “Away from the zombies, I guess.”

 

The man laughs dryly. “There’s hardly any place you can get away from the walkers, son.”

 

“Walkers? That what you call them?”

 

“Yup,” the man quips, lowering his gun further, Sam and Dean mirroring his actions. “Walkers, zombies, zekes. There’s lots of names for ‘em, depending on who you are. Where you boys from?”

 

“Lawrence, Kansas.”

 

“You’re not too far from home then.”

 

“No, sir,” Dean answers quickly. “But we were on a camping trip in Washington when this hit. Been trying to get back there to check on things.”

 

The man’s eyes dance away from Dean’s, before settling back on him, looking much more somber. “Hate to tell you this, son, but there ain’t nothing left of Lawrence. They’re all either dead, walkers, or evacuated. Whoever you’re looking for, well, if they’re alive then they’re long gone.”

 

Sam grips Dean’s shoulder, an empty gesture of comfort to fall in line with their lie.

 

“Dave,” a woman’s voice interrupts behind them. “We should get going.”

 

“Right,” Dave nods. “We have a camp not too far from here, and you boys don’t want to cause us harm, right?”

 

The threat is veiled, but there, and the brothers shake their heads. “We’d really appreciate that,” Sam said sincerely. “We got pretty turned around once we lost our vehicle.”

 

With another nod and a wave to the rest of his crew, Dave leads them away. Sam is uncomfortable having armed men and women around him, and can see that Dean is too, but these people are offering them shelter. They move swiftly and quietly as a group, eventually reaching a road and two parked vehicles. Two of the group split off to quickly scout around the vehicles before giving the all-clear. “You can hop in back with John and I here,” Dave gestures toward the truck, climbing up quickly while the rest split themselves between the cab of the truck and the jeep.

 

Sam and Dean sheathe their machetes and follow Dave up, settling side by side across from the other men. John nods warily at the brothers, tense and silent at Dave’s side.

 

“So what’re your names?” Dave asks as the truck starts, moving quietly along the wooded area, following the Jeep closely.

 

“I’m Dean, and this is my brother, Sam.”

 

“And you boys were from Lawrence? What did you do?”

 

“Yessir. I was a mechanic and Sammy here worked for a college doing research.”

 

“Past tense already,” Dave notes wryly. “You boys sure adjusted quick. I was a diesel mechanic myself. From Nebraska.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are we going?” Sam chimes in.

 

“Hutchinson Correctional Facility,” Dave chuckles. “Never thought I’d see the day I’d be glad to be going to jail.”

 

“Correctional Facility, huh? You’ve got the place secured?”

 

“Yep. Been cleared of walkers, stone perimeters, guard towers. We’re a damn lucky crew.”

 

“Is it just you guys?” Sam asks curiously.

 

Dave and John exchange glances, looking tense again. “No,” Dave finally says. “No, there’s quite a few of us.”

 

Sam wants to ask more, but the men are clearly uncomfortable. They ride in silence the rest of the way to the gate of the facility. The brothers take note of the guard towers, but aren’t able to see if they’re manned in the darkness. The gates are opened by two armed men, and shut quickly behind them as their small convoy pulls into the port.

 

“All clear, Dave?” a woman’s voice rings out.

 

“Negative,” Dave says to Sam’s surprise.

 

“What’ve you got?”

 

“Couple of newcomers. Found them out in the woods.”

 

The woman approaches the truck in the dark, climbing up onto the back. She clicks on the flashlight and sweeps it over Sam and Dean. “They’re clean?”

 

“Seem to be.”

 

“Bring them on in, but take them over to the infirmary to get checked out. I’ll meet you in mess later.”

 

“Will do.”

 

The second set of gates opens and the vehicles pull into the yard, moving past shadowed buildings and pulling up to the edge of a lawn. Another group of people meets them to help carry supplies from the jeep and truck back through another gate. Dean and Sam are eyed warily, and Dave stays back with them, only following once the rest have already passed back through the gate to the inner yard. “So why the infirmary?” Dean finally asks as they help Dave to close the gate.

 

“Protocol,” Dave shrugs. “Gotta make sure you’re well and fit before we release you into the general population. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

 

“Protocol? You’ve got protocols established?” Sam says wonderingly.

 

“Sure do. Gotta keep things orderly somehow. C’mon. The sooner we get you checked out, the sooner we all can get something to eat.”

 

“Kinda late for supper time, isn’t it?” Dean asks, surprised.

 

Dave shrugs. “We keep odd hours ‘round here, I guess.”

 

He leads them into the building, securing the doors before taking them through several corridors. They see almost no one on their way to the facility’s infirmary, and the few they do see seem to be on their way out to patrol. An older gentleman greets them as they enter the infirmary.

 

“Name’s George,” he offers, shaking their hands.

 

“I’m Dean, and this is Sam.”

 

“Nice to meet you boys. Let’s get a look at you two, then, if you wouldn’t mind undressing?”

 

Dean looks like he wants to argue against stripping in front of two strangers, but Sam is already pulling off his flannel shirt. Soon enough, the brothers are down to boxers,the old man eyeing them critically. “Arms up,” he says as he circles them. Nodding once he sees that they are free of injury, he unloops the stethoscope from around his neck. “Deep breaths, please,” he instructs Dean. With an efficiency born of practice, George checks their lungs, heart rates, blood pressures and temperatures. “Any health concerns I should know about?” he questions as he looks them over.

 

“No, sir,” Dean answers.

 

“Fair enough. I think it’s safe to say I can offer you both a clean bill of health. What do you say we head down for supper?”

 

The other three men nod in agreement, and George follows them out, shutting off the lights behind him. More hallways and some locked doors later, George leads  them into the facility’s cafeteria. The brothers are a little stunned at the number of people that fill the room. Most are adults and teenagers, a surprising number of children, and nearly no elderly, Sam notes.

 

“Holy shit,” Dean mutters as they make their way through the crowd to join the queue for food. Many of the crowd moves aside for them as they pass through, eyeing the newcomers warily. Dave and George keep the men between them, leading them over to a table where several men and a woman are seated.

 

“Looks like you gents passed inspection then,” a woman greets, and Dean recognizes her voice as the woman from the gate.

 

“Guess so,” he answers. “M’Dean, and this is my brother, Sam.”

 

“Pleasure,” she says, shaking their hands in turn. “Welcome to Hutchinson. I’m Laura.”

 

They listen as the others chat over their meals, only answering direct questions and occasionally asking a few of their own. The room is filled with the low hum of conversation. Something feels off about the whole scene, though, and neither brother can quite put their finger on it.

 

“The children are quiet,” Sam says suddenly, causing an awkward halt in the discussion.

 

“What’s that?” one man questions.

 

“The children,” Sam repeats. “They’re quiet. No crying, no running around or anything. It’s just...unusual.”

 

“They’ve learned that making noise attracts the walkers,” Laura says softly.

 

“Oh,” Sam murmurs. Slowly, the conversation picks back up, but the brothers note the muted tones all the adults use. As they finish their meals, Dave shows them where to take their trays to be washed. “Everyone takes turns on KP duty, just to forewarn you. Laura will get you on rotation,” he gestures toward the woman as they sit back down.

 

“In the morning, Dave,” she chuckles. “It’s late, and I’m sure these boys are tired. There should be a cell in C block open, if you want to follow me. You can go on, Dave, I’m sure Christy is waiting for you.”

 

The men bid each other goodnight, Dave reluctantly heading off in a different direction from Sam and Dean. Laura leads them silently, clearly expecting them to follow. The few people they meet along the way nod in greeting, although they’re still met with wary looks.

 

“Here you go,” she says, finally stopping in front of an empty cell. “I’m assuming since you’re brothers you can share a double. There’s standard issue bedding, and whatever belongings you have should be safe. Lights out is in a few minutes, so I’d get settled. Another search party is going to be going out at dawn, so breakfast will be served then. Someone will come wake you.”

 

She leaves them alone in their cell, the brothers sitting side by side on the bottom bunk. The lights clicked out less than 10 minutes later.

 

“The hell we get into, Sammy?” Dean mutters.

 

“Don’t know, Dean,” Sam murmurs back, leaning his shoulder against his brother’s. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

 

* * *

  
  


The day starts as early the next day as it ended late the night before. Predawn light has only begun to filter in the high windows when movement in the other cells wakes the brothers. They stay in the clothes they’d slept in as they follow the others out, having changed out of the bloody clothes they’d been in the day before. Everyone keeps their distance from them, just as they had the last night, but no one dissuades them from  following the group into the mess hall. Breakfast proves to be a surprisingly good combination of wild greens, jerky, and granola bars.

 

Sam and Dean look around the room, trying to judge where to sit when Dave waves them over. They sat carefully, greeting the man. “Mornin’ boys. Christy, these are guys I was telling you about, Sam and Dean. Boys, this is my wife, Christy.”

 

The Winchesters eat quickly, listening to Dave and Christy talk about their plans for the day, and asking questions along the way. “Like I said,” Dave went on, “Laura will put you boys in the rotation somewhere. Find out what you’re good at, and that’s where you’ll be most often. I spend a lot of time out on supply runs and guard duty. We all take turns pitching in.”

 

Sam asks the question that has been nagging him since last night. “Laura. She’s young, isn’t she? How is it she came to be in charge?”

 

Dave stiffens a little at that, but tries to pass off his shrug as nonchalant. “She’s been here the longest, knows the ins and outs of this place better than anyone.”

 

Sensing his unease, Sam lets it go with a nod. If the rest of the prison trusts her, then he and Dean will have to as well. They aren’t in a position to be stirring up trouble, especially for a situation that’s clearly working.

 

“There you boys are,” Laura’s voice interrupts the tension as she joins their table. “Mornin’ Dave, Christy.”

 

“So what’s the plan for the day, boss?” Dave asks.

 

“Gonna go on a run today, with Rogers, Stevens, and these two, if they’re up for it. Scope out that hospital at Newton, since George is getting nervous about our med supplies. It’s right along the way outta Wichita, so I don’t have high hopes, but it’s worth checking out. Maybe hit up some stores along the way if the hospital turns out to be a bust.”

 

If she catches the look that passes between Dave and his wife, it’s ignored, but Dean knows what they have to be thinking. It’s nuts of her to take two strangers along, especially without knowing if they can be trusted or what they’re capable of.

 

“Think you boys are up for it?” Laura asks, almost impishly, and the dimples in her smirk remind him just how young she is. Naive.

 

“You bet,” he agrees.

 

“We’ll head out in about an hour. I’ve already talked to Stevens and Rogers. Just meet here, since y’all aren’t familiar with the prison yet.”

 

Conversation moves on as they finish eating, but Dean doesn’t miss the way people keep darting looks at him and Sam. The others leave when they’re finished, but the brothers stay behind, taking a moment of relative privacy to talk. 

 

“Think they’ll let us leave?” Sam says calmly, scanning the room. 

 

“Don’t seem like the type to make us stay, but who knows. I say we play the game, see how things play out. Least we’re safe here.”

 

“Yeah but man. You really think Ruby ditched on us?” 

 

There’s a beat of silence, and Dean can feel the twitch in his eye before he answers. “Don’t know. Can’t see what else would’ve happened.” 

 

It’s quiet for just a little longer, then Sam speaks again, voice low. “You fuck her?” 

 

“Sammy-” 

 

“Dean. Just. Tell me the truth, huh? I’m not mad. I just wanna know.” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Dean can feel the sick feeling he associates with his trysts with the demon start crawling up his throat. 

 

“Me too. Guess maybe she played both of us, huh?” 

 

Dean grunts in agreement, and that’s the end of their moment. A pair of guys are walking purposefully toward them, both blond and both built. Laura’s not far behind, and she introduces them as Albert Stevens and James Rogers. 

 

“C’mon. Gotta hit the road if we want to make good use of the daylight.” Stevens leads them out with all the authority of an officer, and the rest of the small crew follow. The dusty truck isn’t much to look at in the daylight, smears of blood and dirt down the sides and numerous dents in the rusty metal. Still, it starts up with a solid rumble when Stevens turns the key. He and Rogers take the front while Laura hops up into the back with the brothers. 

 

The gate is being dragged open, metal clanging loudly when there’s a shout of alarm. Dean and Sam’s heads jerk up as they search for the threat automatically. Dean’s up and out of the bed of the truck before anyone can stop him, and he shoves his way out of the gate in spite of the men trying to hold him back. Sam’s not far behind, but the two of them don’t manage to get the outer gate open before they’re being dragged away. 

 

Ruby’s limping down the road, bloody and bedraggled, and Laura’s slipping past them to go out to her. They stop a few feet apart, and then Ruby looks over Laura’s shoulder directly at Dean. 

 

“Run for it, Winchester!” she yells, then throws herself at the other woman. There’s a blinding flash of light and Laura’s body topples to the ground. Dean yanks out his captor’s hold, whirling to slam his blade through Roger’s temple. The world ripples then, dizzyingly swirling until they come to a halt in an empty warehouse. 

 

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” A figure come striding out of the darkness, reaching to grab Ruby by the arm. Smoke pours from her mouth, and the now-empty meatsuit gets flung across the room, thudding sickly against the far wall. “Still so set on ruining our best laid plans. You and your little band of misfits.” 

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean grits. 

 

“My name is Zachariah. I’m -”

 

“Another winged dick,” Sam interrupts. 

 

Zachariah studies them for a moment and sighs. “You’d be better of showing be a bit of respect.” 

 

“Right, after you what - sent us to some kind of fucked up reality? Messed with our heads? Just why the hell are we supposed to respect you?” Dean demands. 

 

“I wanted to show you the truth. The possibility of the future. The world  _ is _ going to end, one way or another, if you don’t try to stop it.” 

 

Dean tries to speak, but Sam talks over him. “That was - that was the future? The apocalypse?” 

 

“One of them. One of the many. Nothing is ever set in stone, not entirely. But there are only a handful that don’t result in destruction.” 

 

“And I suppose they all involve me saying yes,” Dean says bitterly. 

 

“You’re not as dumb as you look after all. You have the opportunity to change things, Dean. You can stop it, all of it. But, of course, that’s up to you.” 

 

With that, Zachariah is gone in a flash. They leave Ruby’s destroyed meatsuit where it lays. The Impala’s parked a few buildings away, and Sam doesn’t say anything about the tears in Dean’s eyes when they find her. He has to choke back tears of his own when they dial Bobby and the old man answers, demanding to know where the hell they’d been. 

 

They set course for South Dakota, trying to ignore the shaking in their hands and the riot of disturbing memories whirling in their brains. And if they stop along the road to pick up an eerily familiar black-eyed hitchhiker, well. The Winchesters were always good at keeping each other’s secrets. 


End file.
